Come Together
by Salmagundi
Summary: Germany wants, Austria waits, Hungary offers, Italy gives, and slowly they draw closer. Poly!fic - Germany/Austria/Hungary/Italy. Prequel to “We Are”


Author's Note: This is a Prequel to "We Are". This means it will be poly. The pairings are Germany/Hungary, Italy/Hungary, Germany/Italy, Austria/Hungary and eventual Germany/Austria/Hungary/Italy.

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Come Together

~ Step 1 ~

"Can I have Italy?" Hungary asks, her hips giving a slow roll that makes her partner grunt softly, shifting the angle of him inside of her body and sending warm flares all along her nerve endings. She feels him stiffen at her words - not in the fun way - and he draws back, like he will pull out of her. Her ankles hook around his back and hold him in place.

Blonde hair is plastered to his cheeks and forehead, his chest heaving with every indrawn breath. He is the very picture of disarray, such a far cry from his normal stern demeanor that Hungary wants to smile. But there is something in his blue eyes that gives her pause and she reached up a hand to brush fingers along his cheek, feeling the sweat-damp of his skin. Her semi-joking remark has apparently hit a sore point with him and she thinks she knows what it is. They never talk about the others in their lives when they are together - it is an unspoken agreement between the both of them. The breaking of it leaves them too open and she half-wishes she could take the words back. The other half of her though...

Germany speaks again, voice low. "Why should you want him? I thought you loved Austria." She can sense the hurt beneath his words, and she sighs, running her fingers through his hair. There are so many things hidden in what he says that she isn't completely confident she can navigate the twists and turns of this particular minefield.

"I do. You know I do." She draws him down for a gentle kiss. "And I love you." She's never said the words so plainly before, and she can see the surprise lingering behind his eyes.

"You are a greedy woman." If it were someone else, she might have been offended by those words, but she has admitted as much in the past and there is no harm in it. "I should think having two men in your life would be enough, Elizaveta." And, as always, it comes back down to the same thing: the assumption that one need should trump another. It is something she has had to break Austria of as well. She still wishes she could bring the two of them together - the image is a beautiful one... she even thinks they might find something with each other that neither of them have with her, but it is a subject that both of them refuse to broach.

"I do not judge you for your needs, Ludwig," She smiles up at him, knowing that they have this one thing in common - that Germany needs more than just what the two of them share. He even knows what he's missing - he sees it everyday, even wakes with it in his bed. And every time it happens, he comes to her again, looking for what she cannot give him instead of enjoying what she can. There is an empty, Italy-shaped space in Germany that Hungary simply cannot fill. She suspects it's similar to the nameless emptiness she feels sometimes herself, but unlike Germany, she is willing to risk what she has in an effort to find what it is she needs.

"Ask for something else." Germany's jaw clenches so tightly that she can almost hear the grinding protest of his teeth.

A smile flits across her face, mischief dancing in her green eyes. "You could have sex with Austria and let me watch." She suggests, her voice enthusiastic as she raises both hands in front of her face like she's holding up a camera - she makes a few playful clicks, mimicking the taking of pictures.

He draws back completely this time, despite her legs around him. Sensing the shift in mood, she drops her teasing, unwrapping her hooked ankles and letting him withdraw. The throbbing between her legs lets her know that her body is not appreciating his absence, but she ignores it.

Germany sits on the edge of the bed, his back to her, and she can feel the tensing of his muscles as she slides her arms around him, hugging him from behind. If he doesn't want this, she knows he will pull away, instead he remains still for a long moment before relaxing into her embrace. Hungary rests her chin on his shoulder, idly tracing the planes of his chest with the palm of one hand.

"Who are you jealous of, Ludwig?" She asks him, "Is it of me? I know how you feel about him..." She can tell she has it - and yet... she doesn't. Of course, it couldn't have been so simple. He raises a hand to cover her own where it splays across his skin and the move is such a far from the uncertainty of their first time that she feels the urge to kiss him. As silly as she thinks this fear of his is, she feels warmth blossoming in her chest. It's not what she feels for Austria, but the strength of it permeates down to her bones. "He loves you," She murmurs, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "I promise you. Nothing will change that." Hungary would never even have tried - or wanted to. Germany is a different person now, more open than before, and she knows Italy is the cause. He would not be the man she loves without the influence of the silly boy Hungary knows so well.

She thinks she should be the one jealous. Germany's longing for Italy sits between them like a jagged piece of stone and she is the river: softening it, shaping it, smoothing all of the roughness away. He will have his Italy, she thinks, raising one hand to turn his head toward her and pressing her lips to his, gentle but inexorable. He will have Italy and maybe, just maybe, Italy's openness and the strength of his foolish, devoted little heart, will fill not only Germany's empty places but her own as well.

Germany allows the kiss at first, but she can tell the moment it changes, his hand rising to stroke her hair. Then she is on the bed, sprawled on her back among the blankets with Germany's fingers tracing the bare curves of her body. He pauses for a moment as his trailing hands reach the spot between her thighs and she wonders if he is thinking of someone else - a sunny smile and the crisp salt smell of the Mediterranean.

"I can be Italy for you tonight, if you want." She offers, shifting to turn over. The act done this way would be more for his benefit than her own - as it's pleasurable, but not nearly as much as having him normally. His hand is on her hip though, stopping her, holding her steady.

"I don't want you to be Italy," he says, his other hand tracing the curve of her cheek. "I want you to be Elizaveta. You are what I want." The stone between them is no longer a wall and they come together; moving in unison - practiced at this dance. His body slips between her legs with a natural ease and she rocks her hips to meet him, feeling her body sing. They push towards the glass ceiling together, until his movements dissolve into an erratic bucking and she clings to his sweat damp skin and croons her release to the darkness.

His weight presses down on her, heavy but comfortable, his body still trembling with the flush of afterglow. Her hands trace the lines of his shoulder blades, the curve of his spine. "I won't take him if you don't want me to." She says at last and feels him twitch a little, bracing his elbows on either side of her body and looking down at her. His expression is serious, but his eyes give away both his uncertainty and his gratitude. He leans down to kiss her, slow and lingering.

"You can." He says and the surge of surprise and pleasure is overwhelming. Her fingers trace his face, wonderingly, and she is not surprised to see him flush, lower his head with that slight smile of his. "If he wants it, of course." His tone is deliberately gruff but she is not fooled by his bluster, dragging him down and kissing his cheeks, his lips.

"Of course." She whispers, drawing his head to rest against her breast and carding her fingers through his hair. He loves Italy... but she knows he loves her too. It is more than she could have asked for. Deeper than that thought is the knowledge that greed has nothing to do with it - and the suspicion that Italy will bring some order to the complex mess of their current relationship. She thinks she must be right. She hopes she is.


End file.
